Come Out, Neville!
by Pisti
Summary: A look at Robert Neville from the eyes of his old friend, Ben Cortman.


**Just to say... this is a look at Robert Neville from the eyes of Ben Cortman. I've never seen the film, but apparently it's very different to the book. I'm 100% pro- the book. So, whatever happens in the film... this is about the book.**

**I don't own any aspect of I Am Legend.**

"Come out, Neville!" The vampire shouted with a maniacal laugh. "_Come out, Neville!_" He stumbled over one of his kind lying dead on the floor, laughed again and then started running towards the boarded-up house, shouting again. "Neville! You know you want to! Come out!"

There was no reply from the house, standing alone over the charred remains of the rest of its terrace which Robert Neville had burnt down; the vampire wasn't sure why. It was probably another way to try and stop the vampires getting in. _This_ vampire didn't see the reason for bothering; he'd be caught anyway, and killed. He'd murdered so many of the vampires. Robert Neville was Public Enemy Number One.

It was probably Neville's survival instinct; the vampire had known him back when he was still human – Ben Cortman, his name had been – and he had always known there was something different, something special about him. He'd never given up on anything, not even his dead wife– he'd refused to dump the body, gone away to bury her somewhere. Cortman didn't know where or how – he was, at that point, undergoing the painful transformation from human to vampire.

And now he wanted Neville's blood. Once they had been friends; now Cortman hated the man, felt a furious rush of envy every time he thought of him. Cortman hated being a vampire – it had been painful to become one, and when the transformation had finally finished, he'd been hurled headfirst into a world even more unforgiving than the one he'd left, a world where it was kill or be killed, where you had to become some kind of sick cannibal simply to survive. Robert Neville was still a human – he hadn't gone through the pain of transformation, he didn't crave and rely on something that he could only get by killing his own. _He may be alone,_ Cortman thought, _But at least he's human_. He would do anything to swap with the man.

The last straw had been when Neville had killed his wife. Every day, the man went around with his stakes, hammering them into the heart of any vampire he saw. Cortman's wife had been one of them. She'd never done anything wrong – wanting Neville's blood was simply in her nature, it was what she was – and he'd killed her, just as he'd killed many others.

So, since swapping was not possible, Cortman was now decided on killing the man, preferably after a long torture. Robert Neville would die in pain, and go to hell to spend the rest of all eternity in pain.

Cortman started running round the house, until he found an old stone, which he hurled at a piece of wood boarding up one of the windows. "Come out, Neville!" He yelled again as the stone rebounded and landed a few metres away. He went to fetch it and lobbed it at the house again and again, shouting the same thing each time the stone rebounded.

After a while he swore he heard the guy cussing inside the house, then a large _thump, _then some more swearing.

_Ah, Neville's back on the drink again,_ Cortman thought, then laughed, a horrible, screeching sound. Drink had always been Neville's weakness – and now he'd caved again. Maybe _now_ he'd respond to the women – they knew he looked out often, and saw them all, they all knew. Cortman didn't complain about the women – if they could help get Neville out the house, then all the better – but their actions disgusted him. He missed his wife. She never did anything as foul as that.

With a shout of rage, Cortman threw the rock as hard as he could, one last time. It went straight through the weakened wood, sending splinters back towards Cortman, who laughed and ran towards the house. He looked desperately around for some way to climb up to the window he'd bashed through, but suddenly realised that the rest of his kind were moving away.

The sun was rising.

Ben Cortman felt a flood of fear, screamed one more time at Neville's house, then started to run. He needed to get back to his house, before sunrise. He needed to avenge his wife's death.

_Until tomorrow, Neville,_ He thought. _I'll get you. And when I do... you'll wish you'd never been born._

**Thanks for reading. Please review! Constructive criticism is always welcome.**

**l1fe0nm4rs :-)**


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